


Nightmares

by angelfiregirl80



Series: Prompts [32]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-01 23:57:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6542053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelfiregirl80/pseuds/angelfiregirl80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The way to stop the nightmares is being there for one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> I've resumed the prompts. Sorry for the hiatus... RL bitching around
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Before the fall, Sherlock was the one that comforted John when a nightmare stroke. He would play his violin, listening intently to John’s every movement, every sigh and every breath. He would play all night if necessary, as long as John would come out of the nightmare and rest.

Several times, Sherlock stood outside John’s door and would whisper soothingly to his beloved “It will soon be over my love. I wish I could hold you but I’m right here if you need me” And then, upon hearing John’s breathing become steady, he would flee, just in case his loving words could have been heard by a conscious John, but not before caressing the door softly, wishing it could be John’s arm, or cheek, or thigh.

He would stay up on purpose, splayed over the sofa, pretending to sleep, just to hear John’s steps coming down from his room, make some tea and sigh at the sight in front of him; then Sherlock would “wake up” with a startle and “demand” for a cuppa; if John made him one without a word and put it in front of him, to then leave the detective alone, then the music and the soothing words were a waste; if instead, John stayed and sipped his tea, trying to make small conversation, or even berate the detective for “sleeping” on the sofa and ask if he had eaten or if he had slept at least a couple of hours; Sherlock knew that his attempts to console John were a success.

There were times too when John would come down, and Sherlock would just barely made down the stairs resuming his playing, and John would look at him with a look, that at the moment, Sherlock couldn’t identify; a wide range of emotions and sentiments would flow through that face, from gratitude to something unknown to Sherlock, something he hadn’t seen in anyone’s eyes before.

After the fall, Mary was the one trying to soothe John and quell his nightmares, to no avail, because the nightmares were of a different nature; she would see John contort, fight with the sheets, try to sit, sob, squirm, fight his way out of bed, until the terrible nightmare finished with a tearing cry of Sherlock’s name; he would dream about the fall recurrently. One particular night, a few days before Sherlock came back from the dead, and right after John had decided he was to marry Mary, after the visit to Baker’s flat, he had the worst nightmare ever, he had seen Sherlock fall, but this time, the man had wished John a happy marriage and then he simply fell to the void, taking John’s every dream and hope to be together, for ever.

He had murmured the many “no don’t” and Mary knew she had to prepare for what was coming, but what she never expected was to hear “please, open your eyes, I love you, you bastard, why did you have to die on me?” and then the heart-breaking “SHERLOCK” that meant John will stay up for the rest of the night. Mary stayed silent, she had heard John clearly, but she kept quiet.

That night all hell got loose, Sherlock returned, John proposed, and she knew a secret that could mean the end of her relationship with John. In the end, she got what she wanted, she married the man of her dreams, even though she was the one holding the rifle aiming at John’s chest at the pool, and even though she was the one that had to oversee Sherlock’s fall; then she “saved” Sherlock’s life, for her love for John, the man she had made miserable for over two years, killing the love of his life.

After Magnussen and the plane, when all was said and done, and Mary was gone; Sherlock would be the one that once again took care of John’s nightmares, but this time everything was different; Sherlock would keep his violin next to their bed, and would play it if needed, and instead of saying loving words to a closed door, he would kiss them to John’s temple or back, and he would gently stroke John’s head and arm or leg, and make sure that John could hold his wrist and feel his heart beat, and his lungs capture enough air to inflate his chest and stomach against John’s chest or back.

Yes, it was different, and John would wake up being amorously held to Sherlock’s chest, being thoroughly kissed and receiving amongst others, words of repentance and sorrow. Even the nightmare was different, Sherlock was being shot by Mary, and John was held against his will by several men dressed in black, and the tearing cry calling Sherlock’s name. And then John would open his eyes, and Sherlock would see the wide range of emotions and sentiments that went over John’s eyes and face and now he knew what he couldn’t identify before, it was love, all the love John had for him, accompanied by gratefulness and hope.

But it wasn’t just different because the conditions of their relationship had changed and now they shared a bed, but because now John was the one that soothed Sherlock, that was there with him and for him when his own nightmares started. The first one was a few days after they started “dating” and sleeping together; John knew Sherlock had nightmares, he had seen his scars, and he noticed the way Sherlock flinched when he saw a man holding a stick, or how he reacted whenever he saw Greg holding a lit cigarette; he would also have some issues whenever John came smelling of blood from the surgery.

John would soothe him, be there, speak soft words to Sherlock’s ear, going from “I love you” to “You’re in my arms” and would wait for Sherlock to stop shivering and squirming, and screaming intelligible words in what John surmised was either Serbian or Russian, at this point, John would know what the words meant, having told them to Mycroft. As soon as he would hear “your wife is cheating” he would know that Sherlock was having a nightmare about Serbia and he would prepare himself and would know exactly what to do to end the terrible nightmare, holding Sherlock to his chest, not touching his back or shoulders, and simply holding Sherlock close by the neck or the waist.

The night before Sherlock proposed, because not even Sherlock knew he was going to propose, the nightmare changed to one that John had never heard of “If I never make it back, make sure he’s happy” Sherlock was asking somebody “Make sure she’s good to him” Sherlock was begging “Never tell him I’m supposed to die” Sherlock was whimpering “He musn’t know I’m to die” Sherlock was sobbing “Please, Mycroft, swear to me you’ll keep him safe and never allow her to harm him” Sherlock was crying profusely

John held him, and whispered to Sherlock’s ear “I swear he’ll be safe, and so will you” and Sherlock immediately relaxed in John’s arms, before opening his eyes and recognizing the wonderful man that was holding him in his arms. Later that day Sherlock proposed and they slept through the night.

The nightmares had diminished in quantity, yet not in intensity, but they knew better now. John would swear to Sherlock to keep his dream John safe, and Sherlock would tell John that dream Sherlock knew he loved him. Every morning after a nightmare, instead of running from it, they would talk about it, share it, discuss it; make sure they were okay. They knew the nightmares would never disappear, but now they had each other to chase the bad dreams away.            


End file.
